WATERS OF YOUTH 9 



which brought about that victory, a peculiarly yellow, 

 bilious-looking object. Less heroic do I appear in 

 the picture where, eager to be after the gudgeons in 

 the backwater, I jump incautiously into the boat 

 alongside the landing-stage, and fall out of it on the 

 other side. The presence of grown-up spectators, who 

 regarded me as a heaven-sent opportunity for mirth, 

 made the experience a bitter one. Besides, I was sent 

 home to change, and so wasted a whole glorious hour 

 of life. 



Other pictures of early days include a bridge over 

 a canal, under which I used to sit, heart in mouth, 

 gazing down into the clear water at very small perch 

 in session about my bait ; and a weir-pool on the York- 

 shire Derwent, where I caught gudgeon and watched 

 an impressive figure standing on a stone near the 

 further shore fly-fishing for, I was told, grayling. I did 

 not know what grayling were, but I saw the flash of 

 silver when he used his landing-net, and assumed them 

 to be a specially desirable kind of roach. One holiday 

 was spent at Berwick-on-Tweed, and there I made the 

 acquaintance of the " poddler." That sporting fellow 

 the young of the coalfish became promptly the 

 centre of existence for me. Waking or sleeping, I 

 thought of nothing but poddlers, and was to be found 

 at all hours of the day walking up and down the long 

 stone pier, holding a long rod and trailing in the water 

 the traditional tackle three white flies, a pipe-lead, 

 and a baby spinner or sitting with my feet dangling 

 over the edge, and offering pieces of herring for the 

 consideration of any fish that cared for them. 



Once I caught a large red mullet, which made me 



